


lover please do not fall to your knees

by lucystonersix



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Getting Together, background silver & flint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:42:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25957705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucystonersix/pseuds/lucystonersix
Summary: Despite themselves, despite everything, Madi and Silver fall in love. Missing scenes, with spoilers only through the end of season 3.
Relationships: Madi/John Silver
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	lover please do not fall to your knees

The bluffs along the western coast of the island often found Madi introspecting. She liked to be alone on their wide plains, away from the chatter and bustle of the camp. She could hear herself think, up there. In the evenings, if she got away quick enough, she could catch a breathtaking view of the sun setting on the water.

Today, it had rained. Madi breathed its scent blowing in from the beach, the salty haze after a storm. The still-damp grass had soaked through her shoes as she trekked up to the flat ridge, but hadn’t hampered her determination to secure a moment of solitude. 

Today, alone, she was thinking about John Silver. The _Walrus_ crew had left him on the island, unaccompanied and ailing, while the rest of their men sailed to fetch aid for the incipient war — a war that set Madi’s stomach fluttering at the first thought of it. (As such, she tried not to let herself think on it too often. There were so many ways it could go wrong before it had even begun; she didn’t dare to hope, only to have such a venture die stillborn.)

Madi’s nerves extended to Silver as well. He was sleeping, now, where she had left him. Madi had talked with him, companionably, as the rain had begun to fall, a steady patter on the roof of the cabin where he rested. The sickness in his leg, the agonizing burn of the doctor’s treatment — had left the man enervated. When his eyes had fallen closed mid-sentence, Madi had found herself at his bedside, passing a hand across his forehead. “Get some sleep now,” she had whispered. Eyes still closed, Silver had taken a shaky breath, and said, his voice a frail croak: “if that’s the princess’s command.” She had smiled, and stayed until the rise and fall of his chest evened into the telltale cadence of sleep.

_The crown is always a burden, but it cannot be borne if you cannot stand_. When Madi had spoken these words to Silver, she had understood the weight of always needing to be perceived as strong; of having to speak as the voice of many when you yourself are but one. She had not yet understood that the greatest burden Silver believed himself to face, the one that made him feel most out of control, most at odds with himself, was his association with Captain Flint.

It would be frightening to bear such a crown alone, Madi thought. Unprepared and unsupported, so much pressure forced at once onto such a fragile spirit. And yet, it was as if Silver chose to take on more of this hurt than necessary, when it came to Flint. She thought about him, refusing opium or even liquor to dull his pain, shutting out all his men — Flint among them — anyone who might otherwise be a partner to him in this; not letting anyone share in or even witness his pain, save a near stranger. 

Madi had held Silver’s hand, white-knuckled as he gripped hers and struggled not to cry out. His pulse fast against her own. He was just one man, whose heart beat the same as any other.

And Madi considered how it might feel to share one’s strongest bond with someone as unhinged, as profoundly dark, as Silver believed Captain Flint to be.

She didn’t know which would be worse: to be with someone you could not trust completely, or to be alone.

*

After her father died, Madi felt hollow. She had been steeling herself for his death for days now, foolishly hoping that preparation would somehow soften the blow. The ceremony of it, she did appreciate; it allowed her a means by which to organize her grief, to put it forth into the world and feel that it was supported, echoed by the collective mourning of the rest of the camp. After, though, alone in her mother’s cabin, combing through the few belongings of his that lay among hers — it came upon Madi slowly, like the setting in of an early morning fog, one that you cannot anticipate until you are surrounded, and at once, find yourself blind. No other person’s grief meant a thing, compared to her own. Theirs was unwelcome. He had been their king — she, his only daughter.

Of course, Silver had been there. His arms had opened for her, and she had fallen into them, fast. Madi let herself cling to him for a minute or so. His hands were solid at her back, and every so often, one rubbed a comforting circle against her. Madi knew she should be embarrassed to go on holding him this way, but she wanted to. His physical touch was an anchor, where she had felt herself drifting, unmoored. A number of events had unfolded between them in the past few days of travel — from the violent shock of Eleanor Guthrie’s tavern to a craven attack by one of Silver’s men. A number of events that had left Madi even firmer in her resolve to stand strong in the midst of incautious, volatile men; but that had also exposed some of the truth of Silver to her, and the implications of a true alliance with him. He had followed her lead at sea — that was a promising start — and something tugged at Madi, telling her she could call out to Silver, hold fast to him. Still, she knew he must be tiring of her clutching him. She had so gracelessly thrown him into that embrace; it was a wonder he still had his balance.

“I’m sorry,” Madi said, pushing away from him and briskly wiping her eyes. As though she could conceal the tears wetting her cheeks, or the dark stain they had left on Silver’s shirt collar.

“Please, don’t,” Silver hushed her. Ducking his head to meet Madi’s eyes, his own blue ones were wide and earnest. He let a hand come to rest on her cheek, a delicate touch, as he studied her.

Madi hated herself when she felt tears coming again, uncontrollable this time. She began to weep, openly. He had not said or done anything wrong, but— her idea of how fast she could compose herself had apparently been optimistic. “I thought I would be able to,” she managed, between sobs. “I cannot— I did not even—” She closed her eyes and concentrated on the feel of the palm cradling her face, calloused but smooth.

“It’s alright,” she heard. A sweet tremor in that voice. “Here, why don’t we sit.”

Silver guided her to the floor and settled himself beside her, bracing a hand against the wall as he slid down. Somehow, Madi instantly felt calmed by the firmness of a wall at her back, solid wood beneath her. She bent her knees, and slipped off her sandals. Bare feet pressed flat against the floorboards, she tried to feel every grain in the wood.

Silver was watching her, his gaze suffused with concern. He sat a respectable distance from Madi, but she felt the pull of him, as he canted towards her, the unspoken tension something like a yearning. She admired him for not being frightened off by her unexpected crying.

(But, then, when he had let Madi see him at his most vulnerable, she had stood her ground as well.)

“Would you like me to go? I can leave you be, or… fetch your mother, if you prefer.”

Madi laughed, even through her tears, which she realized had finally begun to settle. “No, not my mother. She will make everything harder.”

Silver inclined his head, questioning.

“Out of the goodness of her heart,” Madi explained, almost apologetically. “She will want to talk about him. Tell stories, joyful ones. His burial will be something else entirely, but mourning, between us, I think she will cling to something a bit more personal.” She sighed. “I want to remember him this way. I know he didn’t want us to drown in our sorrows, over him. I should be celebrating his life.” Honoring his memory, carrying on his work, in his name; and yes, somehow celebrating a life to so much of which Madi had been a complete stranger. “But, I— for some reason…”

She trailed off. Silver nodded, though.

“You’re not ready yet. That’s very understandable. He passed not an hour ago, that’s a fresh wound. You are no less strong for it.” He looked at Madi so seriously, it was hard to meet his eye. And although hearing those words from another’s mouth was small comfort, she was grateful for the kindness.

She smiled, bitterly. “I am somewhat less strong for it.”

“Madi…” The way he said her name rocked her to her core. It was so gentle, as though she were a fragile, newborn thing.

Madi sighed, and placed a shaky hand on his own, warm beneath her touch. “It’s alright. Thank you.”

*

The day of the invasion. They heard the British long before they could see them. Cannon fire echoed from the beach, along with the telltale thunder of explosives (their men and Flint’s had rigged plenty just beneath the surface of the sand). And of course, the cries of pain could be heard as well, although once Madi could discern those, she knew time was drawing short. 

Flashes of those bright red uniforms between the trees, some mounted but most on foot, made her stomach drop into her gut. They had never been on this island before. Ragged pirate crews or lone, lost sailors had always seemed such a threat, and yet they had always been so easy to dispose of, so harmless with enough traps in place and enough men guarding the coastline. British troops on her home soil, though. Madi’s fear was unspeakable. 

She looked to Silver, standing tall beside her, clutching his musket with white knuckles. “Here we go,” he said, giving Madi a shaky laugh as he glanced in her direction. “Things might get rather loud in a moment.”

Madi said nothing, but nodded, and set her shoulders. 

The first blast, she did not see coming. It rocketed through their defensive wall, twenty meters or so down the makeshift rampart. Wooden shards flung outwards in every direction, but Madi saw no immediate injuries among the men down the line. 

The next one, she was ready for. This explosion was closer, too, just past Silver’s other side. He did not falter, but neither did he move to return fire. She could tell this did not come easy to him, that he was resisting some more natural urge, to run away or perhaps to jump into the fray. This position required patience, courage, tenacity. Madi could rise to the occasion. 

She swung her musket onto her shoulder, lined up a shot, and pulled the trigger. The process was instinctive, and Madi silently thanked her teachers over the years for training her in the skill — one that she had never expected to use for anything but hunting or covert defense. Her target had been a tall, imposing soldier, mounted on horseback, who seemed to be important among the ranks of his men. She missed, by about a meter: her bullet pierced the chest of a straight-shouldered regular, this one on foot. Even at this distance, as she watched him crumple to the ground, Madi knew he was dying. 

Immediately, she lowered her weapon and set to work reloading it. Priming the barrel with powder, she chanced a look at Silver, who was fumbling with his own. He fired eventually, a wild shot, but it found a target. Silver heaved a sigh of relief, and his eyes went straight back to Madi, hesitating.

“Here,” Madi said, nearly finished now. She cocked the musket and passed it to him, taking his own out of his hands. “I should be faster.”

Silver nodded, solemnly, and lined up another shot, this time with her gun on his shoulder. Madi watched him while her fingers worked. She caught the shudder from the recoil as he pulled the trigger, felt him flinch as the bullet flew over the heads of the every British soldier in the front line. 

“Sorry,” Silver offered, ruefully, as Madi took another shot herself, this time catching the mounted redcoat square in the shoulder. (He tumbled from his saddle, hitting the forest floor hard, but Madi assumed he still drew breath.) “Don’t bother helping me, you’re clearly a better sh—”

Madi barely had time to gasp, as the wall exploded around her. A cannonball had flown through it, decimating the barricade and sending debris flying. The force of it knocked her to the ground, or maybe she reflexively dived out of its path. Either way, she landed unceremoniously on her side. 

Her ears were ringing — Silver had not been lying about the volume — but above the din, she heard her name, and felt arms enveloping her before she registered whom they belonged to. 

“Madi, oh fuck.” He sounded frightened. “Are you hurt?”

She assessed herself, which was easier said then done, with Silver’s face hovering so close to her own. No, just shaken. The blast could have hit her, had it been a hair closer. 

“I’m fine,” Madi swallowed, and struggled to her feet, lending Silver a hand to pull him back up as well. Gunfire continued ceaselessly, all around them. So soon, had their position been compromised; Madi should have anticipated how rapidly the assault would escalate once it had begun. “We need to move,” she said to Silver, whose hand had not yet dropped hers. He squeezed it tight, and nodded, and the two of them made their way further down the rampart, to an undamaged stretch of wall. This time, they took greater care to duck well below its height.

Madi began to reload her musket, and shared an anxious glance with Silver as he got to work on his own. The air between them crackled, despite his vigilant attention to the front-line soldiers, despite her fear. As they fired in near unison, Madi felt that the two of them were back to back, fighting a boundless enemy, innumerable armies swarming them on all sides. But then, she also felt, for a moment, that she and Silver were the only two human beings in the world.

They would fight for the world together. Madi’s blood ran hot, coursing through her veins. “Another round,” she said, unwavering, and Silver followed as instructed. No, they needn’t talk or even think about near-death experiences. There was only one option: to continue forward. Madi faced the host of British soldiers amid the trees, and took aim.

*

The rest had been a blur. With volleys streaking over their heads and shots from their enemies’ mortars decimating the barricade, the near-misses grew ever closer. Madi could hear little during the battle, over the fusillades of bullets, of shouts, the clammer of weaponry and the pounding of hooves and feet across the forest floor. Occasionally, Silver’s tremulous voice had cut through, but only just.

And then it was over, as abruptly as it had begun. Flint and their joint armies carried out a plan that hinged almost entirely on deception and faith — and yet, owing to Silver’s design, the ruse had played out eerily, predictably, succesfully. They laid waste to most of the British troops on the island, allowing a few survivors to relay the tale; this, coupled with the forced tactical retreat of the naval fleet, led by their allies at sea, and the day was theirs. And all at once, they were forced to reckon with the aftermath of the battle, and to decide where to go from there.

At the moment, Madi was wrapping a bandage around the arm of an older man, a friend, who had been wounded during the first assault on the beach. The bullet had gone clean through — messier, but she was told, safer, than if it had lodged in the muscle. The sheer number of responsibilities Madi had to attend to was daunting, but first priority (and easiest to wrap her head around) were the injured; accordingly, Madi now found herself in a hastily assembled medical tent, helping to treat casualties, and her mind was racing.

Structural rebuilding would have to take precedence, she thought, as she tied the bandage off tight. Walls and bridges to be repaired, new traps to be laid. A few ships’ holds to be refitted, before any of them could take to the water. Some of this work was already underway. The pirates had shown themselves to be quite industrious in the process, and cooperative, especially with some of the more thankless tasks. (Hundreds of corpses in red coats had been pulled from the forest. To mass graves, or to be burned, Madi hadn’t yet been told.)

There were also plans to be made: and this, this was the task that set Madi the most on edge, at the mere thought of it. She, not her mother, was to sit down with the pirate captains — Flint and notorious Teach and the one they called Rackham. They would regroup, and would begin to make ready for their impending war.

Madi was incredibly nervous. She knew, rationally, that she had nothing to be afraid of: after her stint on the _Walrus_ , she was gaining confidence in herself as a leader, and in the men and women who listened when she bade them follow her command. Nonetheless, this was a war council, and Madi’s first undertaking in her own right beyond a simple weapons retrieval mission; the first occasion to impress upon her mother that she was ready, and capable, and formidable, even at a table of kings.

And Madi was _excited_. She felt energy coursing through her veins, thrumming to her fingertips, at the thought of what they were about to do. She could not picture a free Nassau, but she knew enough to recognize that her lack of imagination did not imply a plan’s impossibility. The battle in the camp had been an unlikely victory as well, and although it had been hard-won, it had been _won_. Madi, her mother, the people of her camp — and so many, many more men, women, and children, most of whom she would never even meet — they all finally could be moving towards something bigger. _What does a colonial power do when the men whose toil powers it lay down their shovels, take up swords, and say, “no more”? Bring down Nassau, maybe you bring it all down._ Flint had proclaimed as much, a lifetime ago. After today, Madi was hungry for more.

Her patient’s arm treated and dressed, Madi brushed off his attempts to thank her and surveyed the scene. The queue of those waiting to be helped had dwindled as their injuries were tended to, and more aid had arrived in the form of a few young women loaded down with crates of medical supplies, plus a handful of obliging sailors trailing in their wake. Madi felt comfortable taking her leave, and made her way back to her own cabin, hoping for a brief respite before another of her interminable responsibilities demanded her attention.

She opened her door and nearly jumped as it collided with the man standing directly behind it. Silver — for it was Silver — swore, fumbling a little for his footing as the crutch under his arm was almost knocked out from under him.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you would be here.”

Madi raised an eyebrow. “In my own cabin?” But she was glad to see him. They had parted after the battle with barely a word exchanged, summoned away separately as quickly as they had been.

“I was hoping for a short break from the crowds,” Silver said, by way of reply. “I, er, hope you don’t mind.” He paused, then nodded in the direction of his metal leg piece, currently a neat heap on the floor.

Understood. He didn’t want the men to see him without it, and so had sought sanctuary in Madi’s quarters, away from prying eyes. Madi was surprised, but unexpectedly touched.

“Then why are you standing?”

“Ah, well, I meant to rest, yes, but I was fascinated by your collection.” Here, Silver gestured to her shelves of books. “Not much of a reader myself, but I can appreciate those who are. They say you can tell a lot about a person by the contents of her library.”

Madi smiled. “Many of them were gifts, from my father.”

“It seems like he had smart taste. Again, not that I would know.” His eyes twinkled.

“You are coming, tonight, I hope? To the gathering with the rest of the captains?”

“I’m not a captain,” Silver replied, with a laugh.

“No,” said Madi, “but you are essential. We couldn’t have brought this battle off, without you.”

“Feeling alright, then, after your first real fight?”

Madi thought for a moment. “There was no victory in it,” she admitted. “At least, not in any grand sense. It was terrifying. And tragic, seeing men die, one after another.”

Silver nodded. “I know. But many fewer than otherwise would have. Our plan was a good one, in the grand scheme of things. And it worked.”

“As I said, we were wise to have faith in you. Please, you should come, tonight.”

For some reason, he seemed to find that funny. “Alright, I’ll take it. Praise from a princess, much obliged.” Silver flashed her a winning smile. “And yes, I was already planning on being there. Don’t worry. I’ll be the one at Flint’s side.”

All of a sudden, he looked lost in thought for a moment. It was difficult for Madi to reconcile Silver’s lighthearted repartee with her tense, tentative partner on the battlefield, to say nothing of the self-deprecating convalescent being a bold and baleful pirate. And something about that was troubling her. Taking a seat on the edge of her bed, Madi tilted her head, contemplating. “That night, in the tavern, when you killed that man,” she said. (Silver froze.) “You were brutal, merciless. That was not the Silver on the ramparts with me today.”

Brow furrowed, Silver seemed to cast about for something in the cabin to look at. He fixated on her bookshelves, again. After a moment, he said, quietly, “I’m not sure what you’re asking of me.”

“It wasn’t meant to be an interrogation. I suppose…” Madi trailed off. She didn’t quite know what she supposed, but she was committed, now. “I suppose I wanted to ask if you’re alright.”

“Alright? I’m fine. Extraordinarily unscathed, in fact.”

“I never thought I would fight alongside a man with so much fear in his heart.”

Silver gave an embittered laugh. “Ouch,” he muttered.

“ _Silver_ ,” Madi said, sternly. “I’ve told you before that we need you — _I_ need you — to be clear-headed for this alliance to work. I just said that you were essential. You yourself have expressed that you worry about the depths to which your partnership with Captain Flint might take you. If he has done something to shake you… if something in his influence has made you nervous, or your nerves more volatile, I feel you should tell me. Or if you are putting on a front, in any capacity, I wish to know. Your unsteadiness, or insincerity, it will affect me, and it will affect our plans, and I will not fault you for it, but if you don’t trust me with this, we will not be able to work through it together.”

Silver looked back at her, saying nothing, and Madi heaved an exasperated sigh. “Do you not think it should concern me, that I feel as though I’ve met many John Silvers, and that I’m not sure which is truly him?”

When he spoke, his voice wavered. “And if I told you they were all me?”

“Is that the truth?”

Silver exhaled, long and slow, and Madi felt it in her own chest, a weight bearing down on her lungs. “In a manner of speaking,” he said. “But I haven’t dissembled with you, and none of this has been a front. And it has nothing to do with Flint. Truly.” He swallowed. “Just know I am here with you, and my mind is clear, I assure you. I suppose this is simply my fault for acting like a coward.”

(Only later did it occur to Madi to ask what had passed between them, for Silver to no longer consider Flint a danger to him.)

“You did not act like a coward,” she said, instead. “I’m sorry. I did not mean for you to think I believed that.” 

“Hm.”

“Silver. You played the gallant, out there. But you did not seem at ease. That’s more precisely what I meant: you seemed afraid of the gun in your own hands, the worry of missing a shot, the—”

“The thought of seeing you die before my eyes?”

Madi stopped, stared at him. Silver grimaced. “Sorry.”

She ran his words back through her mind a few times over. “It was me, then? Fighting alongside me, flustered you?”

“You always fluster me.”

Oh. She had been dense: of course that would be why he acted differently with her. These days, Madi had been thinking about Silver more and more, but seeing as they had been laying the lives of everyone she knew on the line, she had not given herself time to actually _think_ about Silver. He clearly had made time, though, and thought about her.

Silver shifted where he stood, darting his eyes to read her expression and then looking away quickly, and Madi sensed his self-doubt in the way he held his breath. All at once, she wanted to reassure him, to kiss that boyish look off his face— _get a hold of yourself_ , she thought, at such a childish impulse. Yes, Silver was handsome — sometimes devastatingly so — but it was more than that. The way he worried about her. The unparalleled attention he gave her when she spoke, the focus as he studied her every word, every breath. The warmth when his hand held hers. Madi recalled the sensation of pressing herself into his chest, his arms enfolding around her, his embrace strong and steady and so, so soft.

More than anything, Madi was irritated that she couldn’t think of anything to say in return, and couldn’t stop her cheeks from growing hot in the silence.

Mercifully, Silver spoke first. “Well, I should leave you to it,” he all but stammered, turning to go.

Before she could think better of it, Madi called after him. “You should stay, I— I don’t mind.”

“You don’t need your rest?”

Madi laughed, softly. “No, I would very much like to rest. But my room is quiet, and there is a chair if you wanted to as well. If you’d like. I would be comforted, by your company.” She looked down at the bedspread, running her fingers along the seams, rather than chance his expression. 

She was not lying: Silver’s presence was beyond comforting, and he always seemed to find her when she had need of him, which was more and more often, these days. And despite herself, Madi’s pulse quickened at the thought of Silver watching over her while she slept. Acting like a girl, again.

“I’d like that. Thank you.” Madi looked up, and was relieved to find Silver at ease again, a barely perceptible smile gracing his face. In that moment, Madi longed for him to join her in her bed; and she knew he wanted to, and she _knew_ if she asked, he would agree in a heartbeat. But, as much as it hurt her to admit it, Madi truly was exhausted. The unending day had drained her, and she wanted to be fully present when she met with the captains. They would have time, later.

Madi watched contentedly as Silver lowered himself into the wicker chair. She asked him to wake her in an hour’s time, or sooner if her mother called on her, and he assured her that he would. After a moment’s deliberation, he pulled a book from the shelf — raising it to Madi, questioning, and she nodded as she settled back in bed, laying an arm across her eyes. The linens were cool beneath her, and Silver’s breathing reverberated all around her, constant and calming, as she faded into sleep.

*

He came to find her, after. Knocked this time, and leaned in Madi’s doorway, arms crossed, with a sly grin. It was late. Madi had been reading, listening to the sounds of the camp winding down outside her door; residents and outsiders alike, voices low as they settled down around campfires, or turned in for the night. Most of them seemed to have gone to bed, as Madi hadn’t heard much noise for a while now. She marked her place in her book, and tilted her head as she looked up at Silver.

“I knew you were clever, but Madi, you were something else in there. I’ve sailed with you, I’ve watched you with your men, but I’ve never seen you in command like that.”

His eyes shone bright, and Madi felt her cheeks flush with the praise. “I could say the same for every man at that table tonight. Yourself included.”

“You matched wits with Rackham. If that isn’t strength, I don’t know what else is.”

Madi shrugged. She had simply insisted — firmly — that there would be no more planned warfare on their island; that the camp’s preparations were to be defensive only, a necessary precaution now that their location had been revealed, after Rackham and Teach had suggested the contrary. The risk of attempting that a second time would be too great. After a bit of back-and-forth, she had convinced them as much, as they all agreed that the men who had escaped would certainly be mapping the terrain already — and in any case, Rackham had said, best to be creative with it and keep them on their toes.

Much of the meeting had gone this way. More give-and-take, and much more mutual respect, than Madi had expected. She had forgotten, she supposed, on what a personal level these people knew each other.

She could not think about any of that right now, though, because Silver was standing in her doorway, and she had kept her mind from dwelling on him all evening, rather successfully, and then in the hours after, rather unsuccessfully, as she flipped through books and yes, even paced the floor of her cabin.

After a long hesitation, Madi said, “I was hoping you would come find me.”

She was being forward, but this was past due. She had fallen asleep to the sound of his breath, wanting nothing more than to be able to feel the thrill of it against her skin. It was so absurd for Silver to have been so near, and yet her bed empty on one side. And Madi had seen the way he looked at her, the way he was staring, even now, and she felt that telltale pull of longing, of desire, from his heart to her own.

“Madi,” Silver whispered, matter of fact. He could not keep the smile from playing at his lips.

“Take a walk with me?”

They walked, along well-worn forest trails. Night had fallen, heavy and inky-black under the tree cover, but Madi knew these paths intimately. She wanted to take him somewhere with a beautiful view. They went slowly, resting at regular intervals, where Silver would pose a question about the route, or the day’s events, to cover for the fact that he was tiring. Madi took her time with her responses, giving him a chance to catch his breath. At long last, they reached her destination. A lookout — well-obscured from the beach by the greenery of the hills, but from which you could see the horizon clear as day, waves cresting offshore and low clouds far in the distance. Out in the open, the entire seascape was radiant, awash in moonlight.

“Here,” Madi said. Silver placed a hand on her shoulder as he stopped, and she took his weight, easily.

“It’s remarkable,” he murmured. 

“I used to come here when I was a girl and wait for news from my father. This is one of the lookout points with the clearest view of the bay. The first glimpse of longboats on a bearing towards us often meant supplies, or survivors, dispatched at his command. We usually have a watch stationed here, but everyone seems to be a watch today, don’t they? Pirate allies swarming the beaches?” She turned to look at Silver, who cracked a smile. “In any case, that is why it’s unmanned, now.” Why they could be here alone.

Silver was studying her. The way his eyes roamed her face, he should have been unnerving in his attention, but Madi found it comforting.

“I can only imagine what the sight of sails on the horizon must be like,” he said. “After such prolonged stretches of emptiness. It’s hardly comparable, I know, but when we’ve been out at sea for a long time, when we see that first sign of a prize, it’s as though life has finally emerged from the vastness, and I no longer feel we are at the world’s end. Even if we are about to raise the black, menace the crew into surrender, still — there first feels to be a small acknowledgment, something along the lines that we are not the only ones left in the world.”

Ah, so he felt it too. Once again, Madi was swathed in it — the sensation that it was only she and Silver and no one else to speak of, as far as the eye could see and further, into that boundless expanse beyond the horizon.

He had such a way with words, too. Madi nodded, so that Silver would know she understood, and felt the weight of his hand on her shoulder.

The ocean had brought him to her. When she considered the fact that he and the rest of the _Walrus_ ’s crew had washed up on their shores, simply owing to the whims of a storm and its currents, she felt humbled. Madi wanted to tell Silver this, say something profound about how she could not believe fate had done so, or how unbelievably quickly she had grown to cherish his steadying presence. She wanted to offer some form of thanks, and ask if he felt the same.

Instead, though, she said, “John Silver, you’re trembling. Are you nervous.” But it wasn’t really a question, and he let out a low laugh.

He was so close, she could feel his breath. He lifted his other hand, then, and touched the tips of his fingers to her chin, lifting it up. A feared pirate, brutal enough to crush a man’s skull in over an insult, and yet so impossibly gentle as his fingertips held her face, asking. His gaze flicked to her mouth, brief but unmistakable, then back to her eyes.

Madi smiled, blinking slowly in assent, but she wanted to let him do this part. She held her breath as he leaned in, at once so sure of himself, and kissed her.

*

They walked back together, arm in arm, pressed closer than on the way up to the lookout. The tension broken, Silver gripped Madi tighter, held her for longer when she offered her support. He accompanied her all the way back to her cabin. Leaning against the doorframe, Silver took her hand, with a coy smile.

“Oh, if you do not want to come in,” Madi started, feigning innocence.

“Is that what I get for trying not to be too forward? Madi. I very—” (Silver laced her fingers with his own, listing towards her) “— _very_ much want to come in.” She rolled her eyes, but his hand against hers was thrilling, and she pulled him to her.

Madi had grown enamored of him recently, alright, she would now admit it readily. She had not been ready, however, for how beautiful he would be in her bed. When she kissed Silver, led him to the edge of the mattress and gently laid him back, he stared at her in wonder. When she lifted her arms so he could slide her blouse up over her head, leaving only underthings between her bare skin and the close night air, the want in his eyes almost made her self-conscious. “ _Stop_ ,” she said, but she was laughing. 

“I’m sorry,” Silver managed, and brought their mouths together again as he ran hot, exploratory hands over Madi’s shoulders, skated them up her sides.

He was so nervous; Madi wanted to tease him endlessly for his tense shoulders and wide-eyed stares as they bared their bodies for each other, for the way his breath caught in his throat when she smiled against a sensitive spot below his ear, and the way he breathed, “Madi, _Madi_ ,” barely more than a whisper, like her name itself was a prayer on his tongue. But if she did, Madi herself should face an equal amount of ridicule, for how her fingers fumbled shakily with Silver’s belt and froze outright when he moved to help her undress him, encouraging her hands with his own. And for how bodily she pushed him down into the mattress with an eagerness that she regretted instantly, for Silver was sure to have found it excessive.

(Although, if the way Silver bit back a groan as her thighs brushed his skin was anything to go by — or the frantic roll of his hips against hers, or the gleam in his eye as he pulled her face to his, panting — Madi had nothing to worry about.)

Silver was unselfish in his attentions, and oh, he was _good._ Madi had somehow known he would be, with that intensity that blazed in his eyes whenever he looked at her earnestly, the mischief in them whenever he did not. There was no mischief after, when Madi finally collapsed on top of him, both of them spent and breathless. Silver was spellbound, almost solemn, as he cupped Madi’s face to look at her, and brought his lips to hers.

And he was quiet, after. As though the loquacious man she had grown to know was reduced to a timid boy, holding her hand fast against his chest the way he did. Madi, too, was at a loss for words, and unable to figure out why. This should not be new: she had been with a handful of partners before, boys and girls in her adolescence, friends from the island. Something about the ease, though, with which she lay against Silver, resting one cheek on his shoulder as he skimmed gentle, absentminded fingers along the small of her back. The closeness she felt to him, as though they were already of one mind, one heart.

*

Dawn had only just broken, and the grass was still wet with dew when Madi found herself on the bluffs, once again. Only this time, Silver stood tall beside her. The days had run into weeks, amid war councils and supply runs, drills and defensive preparations; and all the while, he had been at her side. Not all the while, of course. Madi had a job to do, and while the two of them had heard tale of the whispers from Nassau, ghost stories of a one-legged pirate king with a fearsome name — here, Silver was still Silver. He did more observing than speaking when their group of leaders gathered. Rackham had the most to say, but Flint the most daring (and wildest) proposals, and however it begrudged Madi to admit it, their logic was usually sound. Teach would interject gruffly with utmost conviction, and a level head that tempered the unavoidable testiness of some of the other men at the table. Rackham’s partner, the one she believed was called Bonny, had hardly said one word, but she loomed from the shadows with a heady sort of boldness. And Madi...

Madi did not know how the other captains perceived her, when she offered insight into the state of her camp’s militia, or strategies for building relationships with their prospective allies in bondage. She had certainly found her footing, and her insistence was often met with nods around the table, but it was still strange to think of herself as one among them.

All Madi knew for certain was how Silver perceived her. He would tell her, again and again, in the evenings after such meetings concluded — sighing her praises into the hollows of her throat, her stomach. He had stopped referring to Madi as a princess; now, lips pressed to her temple, he would call her a queen.

They had hardly spent a night apart, since. Madi knew there was foolishness in this, on her part, at the very least: to allow herself to grow so attached, so easily. And yet, when Madi lay awake, alone in her bed, she found herself thinking only of his hands, his long, dark curls, the tremor in his lower lip before every kiss. On these nights, Madi would step outside, and did not need to wander far before she would find Silver awake as well, perched on the steps outside her cabin or standing by the riverbank, always apparently lost in thought. He never said he was waiting up for her, but Madi understood. She would pull him back to bed with her, and at once be able to sleep easy. Chest pressed to Madi’s back, Silver would simply hold her, wrapping her in the warmest embrace as they drifted off together.

At present, and unsurprisingly, Silver was talking about Captain Flint. “I know he seems mad,” he was saying, with a slight grimace. “I know I myself have said as much. But I understand him more now than I ever did before. I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”

“Men like that can surprise you.” Madi remained unconvinced.

“I take your point. Yes, the sensible thing to do is to be wary. But,” and Silver turned to her, a signal that he stood firmly by whatever he was about to say. “The thing is, I have seen to the core of him, what makes him tick and what he’s capable of. Those depths, yes, I know I’ve been troubled by their darkness before, but that was before I truly knew what I was up against. Let’s just say,” he said pointedly. “That he has nothing left to hide from me.”

He went on, and Madi hated to admit that she was only partially listening. (She had taken to doing this in bed, as well, especially when the name _Flint_ tangled itself in his words again and again. Silver had become much more talkative in general, as they lay together, after, the novelty of the first time having worn off, she supposed. Madi had a soft spot for his rambling. She loved it, in an annoyed sort of way — she didn’t usually listen too closely, unless the story he spun was a particularly riveting one, and sometimes she got the impression that the man simply liked to hear himself speak — but then again, she liked to hear him speak as well. His incessant words soothed her, lulled her. Even when they often circled back to Flint.)

Madi’s ears pricked up when she heard Silver say that she should be able to trust Flint. “Silver,” she said, softly. “I appreciate your newfound understanding of him, but it will be difficult for me to share it based on your word alone. Not because I do not trust you—” (for she did, utterly, and hopelessly) “—but because my trust is something he will have to earn for himself, especially a captain with a history such as his.”

No matter how much Silver might vouch for Flint, and no matter how high the praise, Madi needed to form her own judgments of people. Something she had learned from her mother, she presumed.

“Alright,” and Silver gave a rueful laugh. “I suppose that’s as much as I can ask for.”

Madi met his eyes, a smile playing at her lips. When Silver asked, “what,” she answered: “You earned mine. As his quartermaster, nonetheless. So, anything is possible, is it not?”

And she watched Silver as a contented smile spread across his face, as he slipped an arm around her waist, anchoring her to him. “I suppose it is,” he said, softly, and squeezed her a little tighter. Madi tipped her head to rest it on his shoulder, and followed his gaze out over the open water, where their ships were in the long process of being made ready for battle. And with the war looming, Madi made the decision that despite it, she would enjoy this moment of quiet, simple peace with Silver. They would enjoy it together.

**Author's Note:**

> it hurt me to write madi before she and flint are partners but i had to be true to the text :P
> 
> and yes i know madi's room doesn't have a door we all make mistakes
> 
> title from "ghosts" by laura marling


End file.
